


Bloody Mary

by SamThePuppeteer



Category: Original Work
Genre: I Don't Even Know, Lots of gore and horror, Original Characters - Freeform, just gore just plain gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:02:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8983165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamThePuppeteer/pseuds/SamThePuppeteer
Summary: Too many times has the world undergone horrible mass murders, but the modern take on the Bloody Mary story would definitely take the top tier as most horrible.





	1. Kill 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is just plain Gore and Horror, this is your last warning!

A scream. That's all she needed to know she had succeeded. And a scream is what she got. Mary smiled a sickly smile and tapped the girl in the middle of her forehead. "You are going to become a beautiful masterpiece." She whispered in the shaking girls ear. Mary paced around the girl for a few minutes seeing if she could get another scream. "Ugh your boring." Mary said as she stabbed the little girl in front of her. Blood spattered out of her and onto Mary's cape. "Truly lovely! This is the perfect shade of red." Mary said very proud of her choice in victim. The little girl was barley alive. The girl screamed her last scream. Halfway through the loud ear piercing scream Mary cut her head off. "Enough. I have a painting to attend to." She said as she dipped her red stained finger in the little girls blood. She started to paint on the wall in front of her. Stroke by stroke the piece started to look like something. She kept painting with the blood. Mary pulled out a can of black spray paint and painted the last part, a thorn. She stood back to look at the whole painting. It was a rose with a thorn sticking through it. She pulled her bloody knife out of her pocket to get her signature on her painting. She licked it savoring its flavor. "Yum, this one's very sweet." She said finishing cleaning the knife. She put the knife up and admired it. "I always liked this one. hmm too bad." She threw it at the painting and it perfectly landed in the center of the rose. "That was fun!" She said in an enthusiastic way. She picked up her bag and kicked the corpse. "Thank you for your contribution!" Mary said with a smile. She walked out of the abandoned building. It was in the middle of a forest. Outside were a bunch of corpses laying, most of them headless. This is where she killed her victims. She carefully stepped over the corpses. She would keep them for a week or so, longer if their blood was an odd color. She has seen maroon blood, pinkish blood, magenta blood, lots of colors. Red was the most usual. She would paint all over the building. It was near the end of the month so the whole building was covered in masterpieces. there were roses, people, animals, splatter paint, lots of designs. The detectives would usually find the bodies and paintings every month. Mary walked out of the grass covered in bloody corpses. "Well that was nice." She said to herself with a smile. She slowly walked out of the forest remarking her brilliant work. Once she reached the edge of the forest she put her bloody cape in her bag. Mary walked down the everlasting sidewalk. She realized that she had a pair of earbuds and her iPod in her bag. She started digging trough it and finally found them. She pulled them out, excited. If she wasn't and artist, she would be a musician. She loved music just as much as art, but its harder to get in the music business than be an artist. She turned the iPod on and pressed play on one of her favorite songs, The Game Of Life by Hatsune Miku. She found he could relate to in, in the way of how she controlled peoples lives. She kept walking, but at a faster pace because she was trying to walk to the beat of the song. Once she got to her apartment building, she pulled a key out of her pocket. Mary walked up to her apartment and put the key in the door nob. The door opened easily. She walked into the room, making sure to pull the key out of the door nob and close the door behind her. She set her bag down and sat on her bed. Another painting was done. Another victim was done with. This one was going to be a lot of money. Mary Didn't kill for money. No, she killed for the fun. She just happened to be paid and given a victim. It was every other killing, kill make another masterpiece. Mary walked into the bathroom and took of her glasses and stared into the mirror. She always thought that a mirror was amazing. It showed you what you really are. Not what you want to see. Her bright blue eyes seemed to be even brighter tonight. Her eyes contrasted her pastel pink hair perfectly. She never really liked pink. People used to think she loved it. Well, they didn't live long. Mary never really had much patience, but she did have a huge temper. She walked out of the room and laid on her bed. She stared at the ceiling and wondered what it would be like if she knew others like her. It was almost like counting sheep, boring and sleep inducing. She fell asleep in no time. This is the story of Bloody Mary, the artist of the century.


	2. Kill 2

Blood on her hands, Mary smiled. People called her Bloody Mary, she didn’t know why. She wasn’t particularly bloody, she just liked to paint. She was a very artistic person. When she was younger, she would spend all of her time in art class. Art was her passion. Her long pink hair blowed in the tiny gust of wind coming from the cracked windows near the ceiling. Her hair was stained pink by all the paintings she did. It was red and eventually turned pink. It was a cold night, but the cold never bothered her anyway. Mary walked up to the little girl who was sitting on a chair unable to move. The girl squirmed and kept trying to break free. The girl wouldn’t give up, this annoyed Mary. She hated the ones who didn’t accept their fate. She walked up the still squirming child and held a knife up to her chin. “You look just amazing! Your sacrifice for the arts will be appreciated.” Mary said while slicing her cheek a bit, just enough to start bleeding. The child screamed in agony. “Please stop! Please!” The little girl said in a high pitched voice, trying to keep in tears. “Why would you want me to stop? You do want to be a masterpiece? Am i wrong?” Mary said in a high pitched voice, almost sad that the girl didn’t want to be beautiful. “No! I don’t! Can you let me go now!” The girl yelled, tears falling down her face. “Well of course not silly! Just because you don’t want to be beautiful doesn't mean I don’t want you to be!” Mary said, smiling a sickly smile. Mary cut the child's other cheek, a little deeper this time. The little girl screamed, now terrified. Not like she wasn’t terrified before. Mary started to cut at the child's throat, eventually killing the child. The girl screamed her last scream before her head fell backwards, revealing the inside of her neck. Mary quickly grabbed a bowl and put it under the rapidly bleeding neck. “You are a very good sacrifice! Your blood will make a great painting!” Mary said happily. She walked over to her bag and pulled out her trusty brushes. They were all stained red but still worked great! She walked back over to the girl and picked up the bowl full of blood. She brought it to an empty wall in the warehouse. She set the bowl and brushes down and walked over to her bag again and grabbed her moveable cart. She pushed it over to the empty wall. Mary placed the bowl and brushes on its top shelf. She took one of the larger brushes and dipped it in the crimson colored blood. She put the brush to the wall and started to stroke up and down. The brush flowed like a piece of seaweed in the ocean. She kept painting, every stroke contributing to the painting. She looked at her brushes and realized that she didn’t have a brush as large as she needed. She dipped the tip of her blood stained hair in the blood and started to paint with that. It was a perfect size! She whipped her hair at the wall, painting it with her blood stained locks. She suddenly stopped and put her hair down. She walked over to her bag which was a few feet away. Mary pulled out a can of black paint. She brought it over to the cart and started to dip a very small brush in it. “A final touch.” She said while focusing on the painting. She painted small strokes all around the painting very carefully. Once she was done with that, she put the brush back on the tray and stepped back to look at the whole painting. It was a rose. “A true masterpiece! Thank you for your contribution!” She said looking at the dead girl. Her head was still tilted back and she was in the exact same position. Mary walked over to the dead girl with her black paint brush. She painted “thank you” on her head. Once she finished her paintings, she started to pack up her bag. She left the blood and paint just to see what would happen. After her bag was all packed up, she pulled out a hair band and a hat and put her hair in a ponytail. She put the hat over that. Her hair was hidden, which was a good thing. Most people would get scared by seeing a girl with blood stained hair. She pulled an Ipod out of her bag along with a pair of earbuds. She started to play her favorite playlist full of Lady Gaga, Vocaloids, and Florence and the Machine. She started to walk out of the building but she stopped at the door. She looked back to her work. “Truly magnificent!” She said before leaving. She walked out of the forest where the warehouse stood. There was blood stained grass all around the door. Police would find a few dead people per month, but they would never do anything about it. Apparently black people walking into stores and accidentally setting off the alarm is more important than true artwork. She kept walking down the same street, same sidewalk, same time. It got boring but she would always find a way to spice it up. She lived a few blocks away from the forest, so it wasn’t that long of a walk. Once she finished walking to her apartments, she started to dig through her bag to find her keys. Once she found her keys, she unlocked the door and quickly slipped in. She walked over to her table and set her bag down. She looked over to the wall where she kept her victims information. She was an assassin, but she did more than just kill people. She made them beautiful! She took off her shoes and fell on her bed on her back. The song quickly changed to the Lady Gaga song, Bloody Mary. She closed her eyes and fell asleep, listening to her favorite song. “I won’t cry for you. I won’t suffer for the things you do. I wont cry for you see when you're here I’ll still be bloody Mary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole story is just literal horror mind dump, so thank you for sticking around this far!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this like 5,000,000 years ago so just ignore the grammar plz >-


End file.
